Paint It Black
by BroodyOTH3
Summary: Why Lucas? Why do you dye your hair black? Why do you have a tongue ring? Why do you always wear black? Why do you cut your wrists? And why do you hate your parents. AU, OOC, Cutting.
1. Disappearing Boy

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Out of character Lucas, Karen, Keith, and Haley. Mentions of abortion, and slightly graphic scenes with cutting.

What if Karen hadn't been such a saint in raising Lucas? What if Keith had never stuck around to help and taught Lucas how to be a good man? How would motherhood at 18 and losing the 2 men she loved affected her parenting? And how would this different Lucas affected everything in Tree Hill?

I got this idea from when I saw Lucas with the black hair and make up "Pictures of You"

I don't own anything.

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Why Lucas? Why do you dye your hair black? Why do you have a tongue ring? Why do you always wear black? Why do you cut your wrists? And why do you hate your parents?

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These were the questions I always heard from teachers, my peers, therapists, or my mother. But it didn't matter, I was all the same to all of these people.

The freak...

The goth...

The bastard son to the most prosperous man in Tree Hill...

The insults, the taunts, and the gossip had ceased to bother me anymore. After hearing them for so long, I was completely convinced that everything they said was true. Most of it was anyways.

Staring at myself in the mirror wasn't helping disprove these theories and to boost my non-existence self-esteem.

Faded black hair on top of my head revealed dirty blonde roots. I was going to have to buy some more dye soon before I actually went blonde once again.

Below that were my eye shadow lined blue eyes. I hated those eyes, they made me look like a small desperate child. And that was a part of myself I was fighting like Hell to leave behind. I didn't let my eyes travel below to my forearms, which were covered in different shades of scars.

God I was ugly. It was no wonder that no one wanted anything to do with me, including my mom; Speak of the devil...

"Lucas, get your ass out here. I'm leaving in five minutes and if you're not out here, then you will be walking to school!" The cigarette ridden voice of my mother echoed through the paper thin walls of our house.

I couldn't really afford to be late for school again considering that most of my teachers all had a grude against me for not being as good as my half-brother, but that was a whole different story that I didn't feel like diving into right now.

Sighing, I hurried to pull on my black wardrobe and left the bathroom to meet my mother, who was already half way out the door.

My stomach growled in protest as I passed the refrigerator and counter without bothering to grab anything. I knew that there wouldn't be a lot in the refrigerator though, whenever grocery shopping got done, I was the one who was doing it. So once again, no food, and maybe if I was lucky, I would be able to scare some freshman into giving me their lunch money.

The car ride was silent except for the aged car rumbling down the road and the occasional puff from my mother smoking another one of her cigarettes. I was tempted to ask her for some lunch money after my stomach continued growling and a headache approached, but I knew what would happen if I dared to ask her for anything.

I knew that she would go into a rant about how she gave up all of her dreams and opportunities for a disappointment...me. She would yell about how it was my fault that my father wouldn't even look at us. Yeah, no matter how hungry I was, I wasn't going to set my self up for more degradation from her.

Our junky car pulled up to the curb in front of my school as I prepared to get out of the car. But I had a question to ask first.

"Mom, can you pick me up after school today? I think that its supposed to rain this afternoon and I don't really want to walk home in the rain." I was well aware what the answer would be no, but I still had to ask.

"No Lucas, I'm busy." The response was short and held an air of agitatation that I would actually have the nerve to ask her for something. After she pulled the car away from the curb, I swallowed back the feelings of resentment I had towards my mother and turned to walk in to my second Hell.

All in all, I think that school was the worst part of my teen years. It held all of the reminders of my father's abandonment and clear favoritism of my half-brother. This building held all of the teachers that didn't like my lack of motivation, and all of the students that were too afraid of my attitude to be my friend.

Except for one girl...

As I stalked through the halls on my way to my locker, I spotted the one girl that I considered my friend. I wasn't sure if that title went both ways, but she had never called me any derogatory names, so I guess that had to stand for something. Right?

Anyways, Haley James was struggling to collect the books she had dropped. Other students were unknowingly kicking around one of her binders on the floor. I couldn't stand watching her struggle like this so I nonchalantly walked over there and shoved a student out of the way that was kicking her binder. Picking up her binder and putting it in her arms, I immediately walked away, not really wanting any interaction with anyone at the moment.

"Hey Luke! Thanks!" I heard Haley call after me as I walked away. I almost felt bad because I knew that Haley had no other friends than me, and I wasn't exactly the best friend material.

Haley and I were almost inseperable when we were little kids. I know, tough old me having a girl for a best friend, funny right. But I didn't have anyone else and either did she, so naturally, loners gravitated to eachother, even in first grade.

But things changed...My mother became less caring, which turned me and my emotions somewhat cold. When the bullying took a turn for the worst and became personal and involving my father's non-involvment, I began retreating into my self to spare my low self-esteem. And unfortunately, I began growing so isolated that I even isolated my best and only friend.

I still cared about her, but it was hard for me to really show someone that I cared about something anymore. People tended to use my emotions, whatever rarity they were, against me.

Once in home room, I sat in my assigned seat and began shuffling through my bag to find what ever homework that I failed to do the night before. Maybe this is why my grades always suffered, because my homework always turned in to homeroom work.

The bell rang just as I was blowing through an essay for history. I had already finished the algebra assignment, and it was sure to recieve a failing grade. But a failing grade was better than not turning in the paper at all. I had already learned that they called your parents, or parent, if you failed to turn in assignments.

My hand was just beginning to cramp from my quick writing as I heard the seat behind me grow occupied. I knew who it was and instantly damned the alphabetical seating chart in my head.

"How are you today Pucas?"

I hated the person that the voice belonged to. It was my half-brother and my worst enemy, Nathan Scott.

Yes, after my father so lovingly left because my mother wouldn't get an abortion, he went on and concieved this moron just three months later. And my father stuck around for this pregnancy.

"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone asshole." This wasn't my usual response to Nathan. Usually I played passive, but I was already in a bad mood from my mother's uncaring attitude so my testy side was coming out.

"Oh, the gothic bastard is finally growing a backbone. Your father must be so proud. Oh yeah, your father wishes that you were a stain on the bed sheets. My bad." Came Nathan's reply, along with the laughs of many of his other friends that really only liked him for the ridiculous amounts of money that his...excuse me, our father made.

I knew that there was nothing really to say to that comment. Sure it stung, but it wasn't anything I had never heard before. Instead I chewed on my chipped black painted nails to keep from retorting and getting myself in trouble.

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My day went the same througout the torturous six hours that I was required to stay in school. My peers made more taunts that I didn't bother to retort against because they were all pretty accurate, my teachers gave me that same disappointed sigh everytime I handed in an incomplete paper or no paper at all, and of course when lunch came by, I starved.

Just like usual...

Now it was after school, and I was procrastinating about walking home in the pourning rain that I had told my mother was coming.

Having nowhere else to go, I gravitated towards the gym, where I could hear the loud voices of my brother and his friends laughing and warming up their basketball skills. I opened the gym doors and was instantly hit with many memories from my earlier childhood.

_A blissfully ignorant 7 year-old that wanted to join the basketball team..._

_That same boy being so confused as to why the other boys made fun of him..._

_"Mommy, what does 'bastard' mean?..._

_"I'm busy Lucas, bother me with your questions later..._

_"Mom, is Dan Scott my father?..._

_"Yes, and he doesn't want anything to do with us because of you..."_

When I was a younger child I had always enjoyed playing basketball. It was like I had been drawn to it from the first time I picked up a basketball during recess and shot the ball through the hoop. I even remember playing an innocent game with Nathan and the rest of the boys before the circumstances of my parentage came to Nathan's knowledge and I was quickly ostracized.

But when I had asked to join the junior basketball league, that was when the softer side of my mother came out. I had found her crying on the floor with a jersey clutched in one hand, and an aged photo in the other. I had gone to hug her and she pulled me in tight and placed a kiss on the top of my head.

_"You're so much like your father. You're so determined, strong, and stubborn. I love him and miss him so much." _

I still remember that day vividly, and I doubt that I will ever forget it. That was the first day that my mother had ever mentioned my father. And it was a few years after that night that I noticed my mother never said that she loved me...just my father.

She loved me for the fact that I exhibited behaviors that were like my father's. But once I learned who he was, and what he had done to my mother and I, I was determined to be nothing like that man. Hence the black wardrobe, hair, nails, and the silver stud embedded in my tongue.

I had really hoped that when my mother saw that she wasn't raising me, and I was learning what was right and what was wrong from whatever I chose to watch on television, that she would stand up and be my parent, because no one else had been. My hopes had been unheeded.

As I continued to watch the basketball practice in fascination, I felt a yearning growing in my stomach. I yearned to be out on that court with all of the other guys, having fun and having the compainionship of being team mates. But that was a joke. I would never fit in with those guys. Yeah, a dark emo boy with black hair, among all of the perfect guys on the team. That would happen.

Dark brown hair, and a black suit caught my eye at the door of the gym. The man was talking to Principle Turner as they turned to watch the basketball players execute a play as directed by the booming voice of Coach Whitey Durham

I stared intently at this pair as they talked like they were old friends. The man with the dark brown hair must have sensed eyes on him and turned around.

Instantly, I saw the sharp blue eyes and knew who it was I was staring at; My father, Dan Scott.

I immediately tore my eyes away from the piercing glare, embarrassed at being caught staring at the one man that could intimidate me with just a glance. Keeping my head down to hide my flushed cheeks and my humiliation, I really wished that my father wasn't blocking the entrance to the gym so I could make my escape. Rain or not, I was eager to get out of here.

"It seems that I made the right choice when I chose your brother. He has so much promise and potential. You and your mother held no future for me, but I do think that your mother would have had a better life if she had just aborted you. Looking at you now, I think she made a mistake in carrying you to term."

There was a long pause of silence in which I took in the sight of my father standing in front of me in his intimidating stance. I let his words sink their claws in to my emotions as he sat down next to me. In my mind, I wondered how someone could say such cruel and hurtful words in a tone that sounded like a heart to heart.

"Don't yearn for something that will never be. You on the basketball team, me as your father. None of that will ever happen. Get on with your life Lucas." Dan patted me on my back for a few moments before standing up and walking away.

My breathing was short from the utter shock of the situation. My father had come to talk to me, he had basically told me that I was a mistake, and then he told me that I could never achieve my dream of joining the team, or ever have a father. At the same time he was using a tone that a nice father would use when talking to a son that he actually wanted to be born. Then he patted me on the back, it almost felt like an affectionate gesture. But I knew that I shouldn't read too much into this.

I knew that this was probably a just some tactic meant to lower my self-esteem and make sure that I didn't join the team and potentially pose a threat to the good son's chances.

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Now here I was once again, sitting on my grimy bathroom floor, my trusty pocket knife was wielded and I was staring at the shockingly sharp blade that was staring at me, mocking me almost.

_You know you want to do this Lucas...He said it himself...He didn't want you and he never will...You'll never be enough Lucas...That's why you have to do this...Just one little slice...then another...Then we can see who notices...If anyone notices..._

Lifting up the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I stared down at the numerous scars from previous occasions. Some were tan and healed, others were still sensitive and sore when he touched them.

Each time I did this, I promised myself that it would be the last. But I couldn't help myself when every day, I am reminded that no one wanted to stick around and be my father. I am reminded that my mother could hardly be bothered with motherhood, and that everytime I put some snippet of the real me out there, someone can't help but to cut it down.

Slice...The blood flowed to the surface and then spilled over the fresh cut, trickling down my forearm.

Maybe that's why I really kept myself in black garb and hair dye. It was becuase the real me, the one that had dirty blonde hair that liked basketball and classic novels, and wore blue jeans and colored T-shirts was the one that was too weak to handle to unwilling solitude that shrouded my life.

Slice...Slice...Slice...

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Ok guys, I know that they are all pretty out of character, but that is why I labeled this as AU, this will be a Brucas, but it will not be centered around them, because this is mainly a Lucas-centric story. Please review, thanks, Broody.


	2. Freak On A Leash

**Warnings: AU, OOC, Slight Mentions of abortion, graphic scenes with cutting, strong language.**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the material below and am not making a profit of any kind.

Paint It Black

Chapter 2

Each time I bounced the worn ball on the pavement, my rage got a little bit of a release. And each time, I faked right, left, or shot a fade away that hit nothing but net, my urge to slide a razor across my wrist lessened a bit more.

I enjoyed basketball, and I liked to think that I was good at it. After all, I do have the 'Great Scott Basketball Dynasty' blood in me. But a lot of people like to think that they are good at what they do when they don't have anyone else to tell them otherwise.

As I dribbled the ball through my legs and shot a three pointer that hit backboard and fell through the chain net, I let a small grin cover my face. This was probably the only time that I actually let myself smile. It was the only time I felt at ease.

Playing basketball again felt really good after I quit from the traumatic experience when I was 8. My Mom hadn't even wanted me to play in the first place, and I hadn't learned why until I found out about the wonderful Dan Scott.

I actually went over five years without even touching a ball, all because I wanted to please my mother. And the only reason I got started again was because of therapy.

The first time my Mother discovered my masochistic tendency of cutting, she, for once acting like a concerned Mother, made some appointments with a therapist. The only thing that I took away from the whole experience was that I needed something to vent my frustrations.

And the old quack of a doctor told me that basketball was the perfect release, and any time that I felt like cutting, that I was supposed to go play basketball.

The first time he told me that, I almost laughed in his face.

"Yeah, in the middle of class when Nathan reminds me that my father doesn't want me, I should just raise my hand and ask if I can go play basketball." That's what I told him, and after that, he tried to go into how Dan's abandonment has affected my psyche.

But it helped. That night after I came home my Mom told me to find somewhere to stay that night because she had a guy over and she didn't want him to know she had a kid, I went to the Rivercourt and pulled out my pocket knife. I had just been ready to make the first cut when my therapist's words rang in my ears.

_"Lucas, any time you feel that you need to cut yourself, find something constructive to release that negative energy." _

The old man had also given me a rubber band to snap on my wrist everytime I felt that particular urge, but I found that all I did was snap that thing, and people tended to get very annoyed at hearing it.

I almost completely disregarded the therapist's advice, but when I saw the ratty old basketball sitting below the hoop, I was convinced that it was destiny and decided to give the therapy a chance.

Now as I continued to play, the sun was setting and I was growing exhausted. I knew that I had better get back to my house soon before my Mother got too 'worried' that I was gone. She would grill me for a few minutes about where I was, and who I was with. Then she would get bored with motherhood and go smoke a cigarette and watch her television shows.

Some might say that I'm lucky that my Mother doesn't really mind where I am and what I do. But really, the only thing that I want is a Mom that would be worried that I stayed out past curfew.

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_...136, 137, 138..._

I counted the concrete blocks of the sidewalk as I walked to school the next day. My head was bowed and my hands were shoved into my pockets. This was my signature body language to leave me alone.

_...143, 144, 145..._

This morning had not been a good one for my Mother and I, and neither had the night before. As soon as I had gotten home the previous night, she had been standing at the front door, waiting for me. She looked slightly drunk and angry. Basically we shared some very nasty words.

I called her a drunk and a bad mother, and she called me a disappointment and slapped me. I think she was disappointed and shocked that I was starting to fight back. No more was I that small ten year-old boy that she could push around without any consquenses.

_...149, 150, 151..._

Nornally she didn't hit me, but I think me calling her out on her alcoholism caught her off guard, and sadly, her first reaction to that was to strike her son. I've only been hit a handful of times, but each time she did it, it put more of a wedge in our turbulent relationship.

_...162, 163, 164..._

Finally I arrived to school after my fifteen minute walk. The sky looked dark and cloudy, threatening to dump rain on whoever was stupid enough to stay outside in this weather.

Looking around the courtyard at all of the different cliques, I struggled to find the one person who could give me comfort.

Haley James. I hoped to find her because today was one of the rare days that I was sick of the lonliness and desired the companionship of another human being. I just prayed that she still accepted my company after being somewhat of a fair-weather friend.

A few moments later, I spotted her. She was sitting at a table with her face in a large novel. Nervously, I walked over and sat by her on the bench. Leaning over, I read the page over her shoulder.

"'_Pride and Prejudice_', Luke. One of your favorites I believe." Haley looked at me and chuckeled at my surprised expression.

"I know my best friend Luke, and I know that under that tough exterior, that you are really a teddy bear" Haley joked while pinching the cheek that didn't have the slight welt on it.

"Yeah Hales, I'm teddy bear with a tongue ring. How sweet." I stuck my studded tongue out at her to emphasize my point. Secretly, I was sighing in relief within myself. Nothing had really changed between us. She wasn't angry at me wanting my time in solitude, and she understood my mistrust of human relationships. That alone meant more to me than any of the understanding that my Mother had given me.

"No Lucas, you're a teddy bear with a faded dye job. Come on, you can't have blonde with black. I thought that maybe even you, with your utter lack of fashion sense would know that." Haley smirked as she ran her fingers through some of my faded folicles.

I was content on the inside as we sat in silence. This is what we did. We cracked jokes at each other for a few minutes, and then we sat together, just enjoying the presence of human company. On rare occasions, we had heart to hearts. But normally, I would never be that open with my emotions to be able to share like that.

From the side of my eyes, I could see Haley staring at the bruise on my cheek with concern. I knew that she was waiting for an anwser to why it was there, but I wasn't ready to say it yet.

"What happened to your face Lucas?" Haley sounded exasperated and worried. She knew me too well to know that I would never tell her the full story.

"Nothing." I cringed, my walls were building again. As much as I hated having my walls built up around Haley, I knew that I couldn't stop them. My emotions and my expressions were growing hard as I felt Haley cover my hand with both of hers.

She wasn't speaking any words, but I knew that she was calling me on my blatant lie. I didn't have the heart to keep up this charade. Because I didn't have the amount of friendships to pick and choose from. I didn't have that many people in my life.

"It was just my Mom. We had a fight last night, and I said a few things and she slapped me. Don't worry, I deserved it." I said lowly while staring at our cupped hands.

Haley unknowingly ran her fingers over the fresh cuts on my wrists. Not being prepared for the sting that came with the touch, I failed to surpress a hiss. I saw my friend divert her attention to my scarred wrist and change her expression to one of extreme worry and concern.

Meeting Haley's eyes, I could discern the questioning from all of the other turbulent emotions that appeared. I gave her the slightest tight lipped expression that told her that I knew what I was doing was wrong.

She patted and lightly rubbed the top of my hand in a comforting manner. I treasured this physical contact which was one of the only contacts that I associated with pleasure.

The only other was when my father patted my back the previous day. But that was something that I was going to keep buried in the depths of my soul and no one would ever find out about it.

Yeah, Haley and I were an odd pair. I, the loner gothic boy, and her, the teacher's pet, but we fit together. Somehow, we became best friends, and stayed best friends.

And that was something that I would fight like Hell to maintain.

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_Change in P.O.V.- Brooke_

I was growing bored with all of the cheerleading talk around me as I waited for the bell to ring to start school, where my boredom would continue.

Bevin and Rachel were both gossiping about the party at Nathan's house last weekend. And Peyton was listening to her 'slash my wrists' music as I so lovingly dubbed it, leaving me to tousle my hair in my boredom.

I looked around the courtyard in curiosity, having always been a secret people watcher, this activity always interested me. Each clique brought a different reaction from me.

A flirty smile to the jocks, a look of disgust towards the space and science geeks, a snobby look to the girls that weren't as wealthy as me, and then...then I caught sight of them.

As I spotted the pair sitting at their own table, I wasn't sure what to think of them. I knew who they were, but I just hadn't known of their friendship.

Lucas Scott, Dan Scott's illegitimate son, resident goth freak, and Haley James, best tutor in the school, and of course, teacher's pet. What an unlikely set they made.

I could admit that I was somewhat intruiged at the interaction between them, mostly by the black haired and clothed enigma.

Lucas Scott was such a mystery to me. How two brothers could be such different people, ranging from popular, nearly God complex Nathan, to the ultimate school reject Lucas.

I knew almost nothing about Lucas except for what the whole school knew, which was odd because to most of the girls, I was the gossip queen who knew everything about everyone. But things were different with Lucas, he kept to himself, and if you wanted to know something about him, you had to prove yourself and make an effort it seemed.

This presented a challenge to me. I was extremely curious about the gothic boy that didn't seem to mind being different, and who made friends with weird tutor girls.

"Brooke, Hey Brooke, BROOKE!" I was snapped out of my master scheming by Bevin and Rachel, who were finally finished exchanging their gossiping.

"Finally, we've been calling your name like forever, and then we find you staring at a few freaks. What is with you?" Rachel asked in her bitchy tone of voice.

"Oh nothing, I was just checking out Nathan's _brother._" I put more emphasis on the word brother as I directed it towards Nathan, who was just one table over.

"Brooke! That freak is not my brother!" Nathan yelled louder than needed as half the student population looked up at the commotion. I peeked over to where Lucas was sitting again, just curious to catch a glimpse of his reaction.

Lucas had looked up from the table in which he had been staring at to hear the harsh statement. A look of discouragment crossed his face for a moment before returning to a mask of nothing.

"Brooke! There you go again, staring at a freak. If I didn't know, I would think that you might just be crushing on Mr. Darkness over there. It's not like you could get someone like him anyways though." Rachel threw in that challenge, just hoping to get Brooke wound up enough to make a bet.

"Don't kid yourself Gattina. I could get that boy to fall at my feet within a day." I said snobbily. Inside, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to take the challenge that was sure to be issued. Lucas seemed like a much more fragile case than a new kid that joined the basketball team. He had known us since kindergarten, and he knew who we were and what we did to people. Then again, maybe I should take this challenge...

"Okay, sure Brooke. Just to make sure you know, that kid is like an emotional rock, and he doesn't talk to anyone except that tutor girl and Nathan, and that's only to get him pissed off." Rachel had a smirk on her face as the mention of Nathan got a rise out him once more.

"We'll just see, I can get him to fall hard for me by the time the cheerleading tournament hits, and I can get him to sleep with me that weekend." I could not believe that I had issued my own challenge and such a cruel challenge it was.

"Oh yeah Brooke, he'll fall _hard_ for you. That's for sure. It's on." I smacked her playfully at the sexual innuendo and reluctantly shaked her hand, sealing the bet.

Now all I had to do was to break open the hardest shell of a boy I had ever encountered and make him love me enough to sleep with me. All in three weeks time.

This would be easy.

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Hey guys, the bet will only be a small part of the story. This is still mainly Lucas-centric and deals with how he will find himself. I mostly used the first two chapters to show Lucas's relationships with all of the people in his life. I hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think. Thanks, Broody


	3. Moody Suburban Teenage Love Song

Disclaimer: All characters and situations from _One Tree Hill_ are properties of Mark Schwahn, and CBS Warner Televison. No copyright infringement intended.

**Warnings: Mentions of cutting and mild swearing.**

Paint It Black

Chapter 3

Moody Suburban Teenage Love Song

Here I was once again.

Once again I was sitting alone in my room while I ate my dinner that consisted of left over pizza and a glass of water. My Mother was working late, or at least that was her excuse tonight. I had arrived home from school this afternoon to find a note on the door.

_Lucas, I'm working late tonight. Get yourself some dinner and do your homework. _

Well, I sighed to myself, atleast she left a note tonight. There had been nights where my Mom had never left me a note to tell me that she was going to be late, leaving me to worry about when she would be home.

I could remember one night when I was twelve when my Mother hadn't arrived home until four in the morning. I had stayed awake that night, watching out the front window of our small house, worrying about whether or not I was ever going to see my Mother again.

But I didn't like to think about that.

The informality of the letter was no shock to me, I was used to it. But I couldn't help but wonder if this was what the notes were like for other kids. Did their Moms include any signs of affection like the three small words that hadn't been directly said to me in so long? Or were their parents there every day to greet them after school?

My urge to draw out my pocket knife and make cuts across my forearm rose in my chest as I continued to think about all of the things that I missed as a child from my negligent Mother. But as my hand came in contact with the cool metal, a thought came to my mind.

Haley had noticed that morning that I had been cutting. And her expression depicted concern and worry. The fact that someone knew and cared about my self-destructive behavior was enough for me to replace the knife back into my pocket, leaving it for another day.

I decided not to dwell on the matter as unwanted feelings and the taste of week old pizza created a nauseous feeling in my stomach. Throwing the remaining pizza into the garbage, I turned up my stereo and blasted this weeks newest 'slash your wrists' music as I dubbed it.

Smiling at the irony of the name for my music, I turned the radio up one more notch to drown out the silence of the lonliness in my home. There was no lonliness if there was no silence.

* * *

_"Did you what happened after the game on Friday?"_

_"I heard that half the guys on the team got suspended."_

_"Aren't they holding try outs for the positions after school?"_

_"Why wasn't Nathan suspended?"_

The buzz on Monday morning surrounded me as I sat in solitude at a table before school started. By the time most of the school's population had arrived to the campus, I had been able to piece together a story of what had gone down.

Apparently after the game, my dear brother and his buddies had thought it would be fun to steal the rival school's bus and go joy riding with the team. And apparently he had been stopped by the cops. Half the team had been suspended because of the alcohol issue and the grand theft auto issue. But one question still alarmed in my mind.

Why hadn't Nathan been suspended?

According to all of the stories that I was hearing, my half-brother was the main culprit in the crimes that had been commited, and if this was true, then why wasn't he suspended like the rest of the team?

I got my answer when I saw a very irate looking Dan Scott stalking front the school building, followed by my half-brother. I couldn't understand the words that were being exchanged, but by the body language they were showing, I could se that they weren't very pleasant.

As I continued to watch the pair, they moved closer and closer to the table I was sitting at. An alarm sounded in my head, making me wonder what they wanted with me. Looking around my surroundings, I found why they were moving closer to me.

My stupidity hit me as I saw the shiny red Jaguar with dealership plates parked directly behind me. How idiotic could I be to sit right by the one person's car that I hated?

_**'I Got Mine at Dan Scott Motors'**_

I could almost feel the obnoxious advertisement mocking me for not noticing. And all I could do was duck my head and hope that my father and brother were too busy to notice me.

The angry words being spoken were getting to the point where I could comprehend them as I bowed my head to rest on the wooden table, trying to be unnoticable.

"Damn it Nathan! I can't keep pulling you out of trouble when you pull these stupid stunts! Do you know how much money and begging it took me to keep you from getting expelled, never the less, suspended or kicked off the team?"

So that's why brother dearest wasn't punished in the least. Because Daddy Dearest gave money to protect him. Bitterness rose in my throat as I realized that my father went well out of his way to save him from suspension and removal from the basketball team.

Well where the Hell was he whe I got suspended for fighting? Technically it was self-defense on my behalf, but I still got a three day suspension.

Why did he protect Nathan from a perfectly fitting punishment? And why didn't he protect me from my unjust punishment?

I banged my head against the wooden table as I realized that I was breaking one of my cardinal rules that I had developed as a child.

_**Rule # 3 - I, Lucas Scott, shall never whine, complain, or bitch about anything Dan Scott, or Dan Scott related.**_

But even though on the outside I had ceased caring about how unfair my father was, I still couldn't supress my hurt feelings that my soul nurtured about the situation.

* * *

My conquest came almost directly into my line of sight that morning as I arrived at school the next morning.

Freshly dyed black hair, and the black and gray wardrobe sparked my interest while I took my seat at the table with my fellow cheerleaders. Over the weekend I had completely forgotten about my challenge with Rachel. I had confidence in my abilities to invade a boy's life and heart, and then sleep with him, but this case was different.

The boy was different than anything other conquest I had ever attepmted before. Normally, the boys that I attempted to seduce were new to the school and very good looking. They usually had no idea what they were getting into when a pretty brunette introduced herself and seemed very friendly with them.

But Lucas had known them since kindergarten. He knew what my friends and I were about. And it wasn't exactly like we had been extremely kind to him. Many memories were filling my mind.

Kindergarten...I pushed him in the mud for accidentally knocking over my juice during snack time.

Third grade...I pulled his chair out from under him when he was trying to sit down. The whole class laughed.

Eighth grade...On a field trip to the museum we pulled his pants down to his ankles. But we were nice and left his boxers.

Yeah, I had no idea how I was going to complete this bet at this rate. I had been nothing but terrible to him and now I was supposed to get him to trust me enough to sleep with me.

"Hey Brooke, Goth Boy is all alone, which is nothing new, but now seems like a great time to get to know him." Rachel, who was sitting next to me, pointed out as she saw me staring at Lucas a.k.a Goth Boy.

"I'll be right back." I gave my friend a smirk as I stood up from the table.

As I began walking towards the other tables, my arrogant body language was getting harder and harder to sustain. What was I supposed to do or say?

"Hey Luke! I know that this is weird and that I've never been nice to you before, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out some time?"

I knew that I couldn't be that up front with him, but I had to do something. Maybe my seductiveness would work to my advantage. After all, so far there has been no boy that has ever been immune to my charms.

Approaching the table, I could see him rubbing his sleeved wrists roughly while his face looked distressed. I almost turned around as I could see that this was obviously not the best time to approach him. But as I looked back at the table with my friends, I saw that they were all watching me and whispering. There was no way that I was going to turn back now, I would never hear the end of it.

Finally, I was standing in front of Lucas's table. My nerves were attempting to take over, but I kept my cool as I swiftly sat beside him on the bench.

I immediately caught his attention as I watched him abruptly turn his head to me in surprise. The first thing I noticed about him as I watched his stare, was the color of his eyes. The deep cobalt eyes were surrounded with poorly applied eye shadow. Also, I could see that something missing from the eyes.

A spark. That was what was missing. His eyes were bright in color, but in spirit, they held no light.

The dull eyes were making me uncomfortable with their never wavering glare. This was going to be harder than I thought. After awhile, I struggled to keep our stare going as I wondered who was going to make the first move.

As soon as it became apparent that Goth Boy was content in staring at me, I decided to move this along before the bell rang. Adapting my flirty smile, I dove into the conversation.

"Hey Luke, what's up?" It wasn't the most original thing to say, but it seemed appropriate, and not too overwhelming. I began scooting closer, despite how uncomfortable he looked.

"What do you want?" Came his short, immediate reply.

I was shocked at his cold tone, but not overly discouraged. After all, was I supposed to expect open arms? He was the most unfeeling person in the school according to most of the rumors. I thought that 'unfeeling' was a little bit harsh, but he was the most emotionally unavailable.

"Why do you assume that I want something Luke?" Touching his forearm, I began testing my boundries with him, just to see how far I could push until he became too uncomfortable.

My answer quickly came as he hissed in what seemed like pain, and pulled away from my touch as if I had burned him.

"Because! The last time you spoke to me was to make fun of me after pulling my pants down at that field trip! Now get the Hell away from me!"

Now I was beginning to get discouraged. Goth Boy was screaming at me and I couldn't even touch him. How was I supposed to get him to sleep with me if I couldn't even touch him?

* * *

I had never been so relieved in my life to hear the school bell ring. Normally, I hated the loud sound of the bell that signalled the start of a long 6 hour stint of Hell, but at that moment, as I was overwhelmed with distress and confusion, I relished the loud ringing.

Roughly, I pulled away from the touch which was way too close to my cuts and stalked away, actually hurrying to class for once.

The confrontation of just minutes before with Brooke Davis had left me confused and angry. I didn't know why all of a sudden that she chose to talk to me, and frankly, what ever the reason was, I wasn't interested.

She had always been nothing but mean to me, from causing me some of my earliest trauma by pushing me in the mud at age five, to pantsing me in a museum. And did I forget to mention how she never failed to make jokes of my parentage every time my Mother failed to show up at a school function.

And now, she had sat next to me, gave me one of her flirty smiles, and claimed that she didn't want anything from me, just to spend time with me, which I thought was complete crap.

Nobody besides Haley ever wanted to JUST spend time with me. There were always ulterior motives. Whether it be to make some sort of joke, or to claim to their friends that they got "The Goth Freak" to talk.

Anyways, I knew what Brooke Davis and her crew did to boys. It was the same story every time. They reeled in some guy who didn't know any better, and then they slept with him and then dropped the poor guy like old garbage.

There was no way that I was going to fall for that.

* * *

The sequence of numbers and letters that decorated the white board in front of the class room did nothing to hold my attention that afternoon.

I knew that I should be paying attention due to the important exam that we were having on this subject in a few days, but I just didn't have the motivation to try and get the equations right.

The words 'stupid' and 'dumbass' came to mind. I had heard these insults numerous times when I came home with a nearly failing report card. And after hearing how stupid I was from my Mother and peers, and when tutoring from my teacher turned out to be a disaster, I just couldn't find a reason to try.

Why should I try if it was only going to lead to failure. I think that was one thing that comforted me, that I could justify failure by not trying. That hurt less. But when I tried as hard as I could and still came out a failure, that was what really hurt.

A tap on my shoulder and a fancily folded sheet of paper landed on my desk brought me back to reality. Looking to the desk to the left of me, I saw Haley give me a shy friendly smile.

_"You're going to have to learn this stuff sometime Luke. Maybe I could help you sometime. Anyways, did you hear what happened to the basketball team? I hear that they are having try outs after school to fill the spots. Why don't you try out? Talk to me after class. Haley"_

I sighed and attempted to refold the note. Frustrated that I couldn't, I shoved it into my unorganized notebook and stared down at my desk, not daring to look at my best friend.

We had this conversation every year, in fact, we had had it only a few weeks before when the original try outs were being held. Every year she bugged me to try out for the team. She was really the only one that knew of my passion for the sport.

But as the years went on, I began running out of excuses, and I got closer and closer to trying out. A few weeks earlier, I had gotten as far as to be in front of the gym doors, ready to walk in.

The only thing that stopped me was once I opened the door, I saw my Father talking to the coach. My nerve left me at that moment. I knew that I could never find it in me to put myself out there with the risk to be laughed out of the gym by my Father and potential team mates.

Speaking of my loving Father, he was my main reason for not having the confidence to join the team. His words from the previous days echoed in my mind.

_"Don't yearn for something that will never be. You on the basketball team, me as your father. None of that will ever happen. Get on with your life Lucas."_

Those words had drained my limited confidence. A part of me wanted to go in that gym and show my father that I could be just as good as his other son. And if I made the team, I could show him that if me making the team was a possibility, then so was he being my Father.

I gave a bitter expression to the fake wood of the desk that I vandalized frequently. Why had I adapted such childish thoughts about this all of a sudden. Just because I might happen to have the skill to be on the basketball team didn't mean that Dan Scott would change his opinion of me.

The bell rang none too early as I was brought back to the reality where I still sucked at everything math.

Shooting up from my seat as the teacher was yelling out instructions of our homework, I raced out of the room to meet Haley.

Moments later, as I was standing outside of the class room, Haley appeared beside me. She was perky, but I could see in her eyes that she made me wait on her just for fun. I knew just what she wanted.

"Hey Luke, how was your morning? I like your hair. Very gothic." Haley reached up and brushed a stray locke of black hair out of my face. I restrained myself from flinching away from her touch. Hers was one of the only touches that I would tolerate.

I mumbled a half thanks before she linked arms with me and walked towards the library. She knew that I had a free period after math, and I knew she usually tutored.

"Hales, don't you have someone to tutor today?" I asked in a hushed tone as we walked along the book filled aisles. I was looking for any excuse to postpone this conversation, for I was well aware of the subject that she wanted to talk to me about.

"He's absent today. And I think we need to talk." We came to an old wooden table in the back of the library. It was a very secluded place, which comforted me.

I wasn't much of a people person, and there was no way that I was going to open up at all to Haley if we were surrounded by nosy people. She sat as the table as I stood in front of the book cases, absently thumbing through titles that I longed to read. One title caught my eye in particular, taking out the book, I opened the stiff book.

_"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and off before they hadme, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it if you want to know the truth."_

The black words on the yellow tinged pages spoke to me in many ways. This book was one of my personal favorites, for the fact that I could relate so well with the first sentence. A faint smile crossed my face as I continued to read each word while trying to absently listen to Haley, who was speaking in the background.

"Lucas, I really think that you should try out for the team, I mean I know that things with Nathan, and 'him', are difficult, but you shouldn't let that affect your future. A lot of college scouts come to see the Ravens, and I think that you have a good shot at making the team..."

I could hear every word that came from Haley's speech as I stood, still facing the books, with my favorite one in my hands. Her argument was extremely convincing, but in the end, there were still too many things against me being on the team.

_"In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father."_

I could relate to what the character was saying about the parents having two hemmorages apiece. I knew that if I joined the team, or even tried out, that both Karen Rowe and Dan Scott would have a hemmorage.

Such loving support I had from my parents, huh?

"Lucas, if you are going to do this, do it for yourself. Don't do it to please Dan, or to piss your Mom off, just do it because you want to succeed. And I want to see you succeed to."

Could I really do it? Did I have the power within myself to overcome all of the family issues and the social circles that were working against me and try out for the Tree Hill Ravens?

* * *

The excerpts were from J.D Salinger's "The Cather in The Rye" I do not own anything.

I am currently searching for someone to Beta this story for me, and my other stories, Where To Turn, An Unkindness Of Ravens, Opposites, and if someone is interested, an original story. If anyone is interested in any of these positions, please send me a message, or email me Thankyou, Broody


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